Caught off Guard

It's been months since I've cried about Olivia. That's not to say I don't think about her. With Ella still bringing her up weekly, I can rest assured that her memory is safely being kept. But now it's October. It was at my 16 week appointment on October 2nd that we received the news that Olivia had died.

The fact that October and this anniversary was approaching has been on my mind, but I was completely caught off guard by my emotions at my non stress test for Will yesterday. I showed up doing just fine. Then the receptionist informed me they were doing flu shots that day. Immediately, I was transported back to October 2nd of last year. That fateful appointment had begun with a flu shot to protect me during a pregnancy that had unbeknownst to me already ended.

I somewhat hesitantly agreed to the shot yesterday after confirming that it could help protect Will since he'll be too young to be immunized himself this year. I just had specific directions for the nurse. I told her I would need to already be hooked up to the heart beat monitor so I could listen to Will's heart beating while she gave me the shot.  I also said that she should wait to take my blood pressure because it was surely high as that point. We followed my protocol to a tee, but as soon as the nurse went to leave me alone to continue my NST, I felt the tears coming. Apparently, that shot was enough of a trigger to send me over the edge when combined with the calendar change and being at the doctor's office.

The nurse offered to sit and talk with me, and she ended up staying the whole half hour of the test. I got to talk about Olivia like I haven't done in months. I quickly went from crying to just remembering and sharing. I'm thankful that the nurse dropped everything else that I'm sure was calling for her and just kept me company and asked about my baby girl.

Children’s Literature

December 29, 2014

    

There was a day a month and a half or so ago that a list of quotes from children’s literature kept popping up in my Facebook feed. I’m a language arts teacher and love children’s literature, so I was immediately drawn to it.  I was surprised how many of the quotes on the list spoke to me. I found meaning relating to the loss of Olivia in quite a few from the list and then actively searched out more from Winnie the Pooh when I realized just how many of those seemed to describe my feelings.

“A person’s a person no matter how small.” ~Dr. Seuss, Horton Hears a Who

“Numbing the pain for awhile will only make it worse when you feel it.” ~J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

“It’s no use to go back to yesterday because I was a different person then.” ~ Lewis Carroll, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland

“Once you are real you can’t become unreal again. It lasts for always.” ~Margery Williams, The Velveteen Rabbit

“Promise me you’ll remember, you are BRAVER than you believe, STRONGER than you seem, SMARTER than you think.”

“How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.”

“Sometimes the smallest things take up the most room in your heart.”

“If there ever comes a day when we can’t be together, keep me in your heart. I’ll stay there forever.”

~A.A. Milne, Winnie the Pooh

Waiting

December 10, 2014

As a multiple loss mom, I kept waiting for the bottom to fall out with this pregnancy too. I waited through the first appointment when we checked to see where the baby had implanted. Then I waited through the appointment when we first checked for a heartbeat. I waited through two more first trimester appointments that showed healthy heart beats and still I kept waiting.

At about 13.5 weeks I stopped waiting. And then the bottom fell out.

On Trying Again

December 9, 2014

The last two times we’ve found out about losing our baby, I’ve had an immediate reaction that I was done having children. There was no way I could ever go through the pain again. In fact, with the ectopic, I even asked if they could go ahead and remove my good tube while they were at it. The doctor, in his wisdom, refused.

This time, again, when I got home from my 16 week appointment where I’d learned we’d lost Olivia, I promptly threw away my prenatal vitamins. I was done. How could we ever recover from this loss let alone the potential of more? When Dr. L sat on my hospital bed hours after delivering Olivia and suggested a surrogate if we still wanted a biological child, I adamantly agreed that I was DONE. Don’t worry, we’ll leave here and schedule a vasectomy to be done by the end of the year.

Then within a week, I started to feel desperate to be pregnant again--as soon as possible. If I were pregnant, surely this would all be better, right? I think my obsession with this idea is what pulled me from the dark depths of what must have been depression. It was a glimpse of hope. I read about tests and figured we’d find a cause, treat it, and be on our merry way.

Then came the fear. We had the testing done but found no answers about this loss or our rising number of losses in general. I felt frozen with fear again. There is no known reason, and therefore, no known treatment. There went my hope, weeks after finding it again.

I think at this point, the extremes have evened out. I’m not too scared or too desperate. We can try again even without answers. I will hope for the best and hopefully be prepared for the worst. I know that I’ve overcome a great loss (well, 5) and lived to tell about it. I can try again.

Room 3214

December 9, 2014

When you go to deliver a baby who is no longer living, some things are the same. You still go to Labor and Delivery. You still have L&D nurses. There is still a channel on the TV all about taking care of your newborn. There is still a warming bassinet in the corner.

When you go to deliver a baby who is no longer living, some things are different, too. We didn’t have to stand in the lobby to register. Instead, we were quickly ushered the long way around to our room so we could avoid the other laboring moms. We were taken to the room at the very back, again to keep us as far away from the happy rooms as possible. A picture of a dove was placed on the door, alerting any staff member who came in to our situation.

While waiting the hours for my induced labor to start, I pondered the history of the room we were in. How many babies had been born sleeping in that room? Was it always that room? Did they avoid using that room for live births due to the bad vibe? How much sadness, how many broken dreams, had been born to tears in that room?

One Month Angelversary

November 5, 2014

Dear Olivia,

Today is your one month angelversary. One month ago today I last held you inside of me. One month ago today I last held you in my arms. A lot has happened in a month. I am much stronger. I am still sad. I still miss you every day.

In the last month, I have written to you, admired pictures of you, purchased an urn and placed your ashes in their final resting place in my bedroom, bought you your first book, purchased a frame and put pictures of your hand and foot by my bedside, lit candles for you and the other babies we’ve lost, purchased a tree to plant in our front yard in your memory, and made mementos.

I love you, my sweet baby. I miss you, my precious daughter. I will carry you in my heart forever, Olivia.

Love,

Mommy

Isn't It Ironic?

November 2, 2014

I. Hate. Needles. I've hated them since I was little. So it just figures that having babies for me means a whole lot more needles than for a normal woman. Due to previous losses, each new pregnancy begins with serial hcg and progesterone draws. Preeclampsia required many more blood draws than normal. The ectopic required multiple hcg draws as well as three IVs over 2 days. And if I'm being completely honest, the IV is the worst kind of needle. In fact, with the loss Olivia, the first panic attack I had was when I got the IV.

So isn't it ironic that I am desperate to be diagnosed with a blood clotting disorder so I will have some possible reason for all of our losses? This testing included drawing 20 vials blood, and I happily gave it for the hope of discovering the problem and having a treatment to try. I mean how can I possibly be pregnant again without feeling we are doing something different that time? How can I believe the outcome will be different if we just do the same things? So now I sit here desperately hoping one of these tests is positive so I can have the treatment of giving myself a daily blood thinner injection in my stomach. Now that's ironic!

Paradox

November 5, 2014

I feel like my emotions are fighting a paradox. On one hand, it feels like maybe this, you, are all just a dream. Did this really happen? Are we really the parents who lost our beloved daughter after surviving the first trimester? On the other hand, I have busily surrounded myself with reminders that you are REAL. You did happen! You were, are, and will always be my third baby girl.

Odds

October 31, 2014

50% of recurrent loss no reason found

50% of late miscarriage no reason found

25 to 33% of recognized pregnancies end in miscarriage

2% of recognized pregnancies are ectopic

1.5% chance of miscarriage at 16 weeks gestation

I should probably play the lottery.

It Happened

October 30, 2014

Tonight the thing I’d been dreading and basically hiding from happened. While out trick or treating with Lily and Ella, a neighbor we haven’t seen for about 6 weeks greeted me with an enthusiastic “Hello” and “How are you feeling? Do you need some candy?” I teared up and managed to whisper, “We lost the baby.” It hurt. It was awkward. It immediately made me feel vulnerable and exposed. She asked if she could do anything and we hurried away, me on the brink of full-out waterworks. Next we were headed for the bus-stop crew. I’ve avoided them for the last four weeks but at least I didn’t have to worry about it coming up since they already knew.

Busy Hands, Busy Mind

October 30, 2014

I’ve tried to stay very busy with projects in these weeks since Olivia's been gone.  Some were intended to occupy my mind with something else so I could get some reprieve from constantly thinking about Olivia. The Lego sets I built (Falling Water and Trevi Fountain from the Architecture series) did a good job for this.

Others were intended to just occupy my hands. The various art projects filled this role. They didn’t take my mind off Olivia, but instead allowed me to express my feelings about her in an active way.

One project was a great combination of busy hands and mind.  I cross-stitched a bookmark covered with violets.  Counted cross-stitch certainly demanded my brain’s attention, and at the same time, my hands were busy making something to honor my daughter.

Last night I finished the bookmark I made in Olivia’s memory. It’s beautiful. It has her name and birthday too. I just can’t get enough of seeing those: her beautiful name and her birthday.

Olivia Claire

October 5, 2014

What Should Have Been

October 30, 2014

Tonight would have been the 20 week appointment. We would have rushed from school to see Dr. L and hear your heartbeat. Then we would have rushed back home to trick or treat with your sisters. How I wish that were still our plan and that at this moment I could be anticipating that appointment. Instead, today marks four weeks of desperately missing you.

Marking a Lost Milestone

October 30, 2014

This week was difficult. We passed the point that would have been halfway through pregnancy. Daddy and I hung a wind chime given to us by Mommy's coworker. We also put you in your final resting place that day. We originally thought about spreading your ashes somewhere beautiful. I thought maybe I’d find a public garden with violets. But once we had you home with us, we both agreed we could not imagine parting from you ever again. Instead we chose a tiny urn that sits in a heart-shaped box that is engraved with your name and birthday. Next to you is the book I read to you that night in the hospital. The title, Sleep Baby Safe and Snug, was not intended for this situation, but it is perfect.

A Double Edged Sword

October 28, 2014

Olivia was our fifth loss. And that makes it harder.  We thought we had passed all the risky times of the pregnancy. We blew the old loss milestones out of the water!  We thought she was our rainbow.  

Olivia was our fifth loss. And does that make it easier?  We know this pain. We’ve traveled this path before. We know that we can overcome the intense grief of losing our babies before we ever get a chance to meet them.

20 Weeks

October 28, 2014

Today I would have been 20 weeks pregnant. I would have been halfway to meeting my beautiful daughter in March. Instead I am empty. I am grieving. I am a week from returning to work and scared to death about how I will function. I am worried that I will never again have the opportunity to conceive, carry, and deliver a healthy baby. Today I would have been halfway to meeting my beautiful daughter and instead I’m three weeks past delivering her lifeless body.

A History of Loss

October 27, 2014

I have been really struggling with this a lot.  Why is it our reality to suffer so. much. loss?  How is this our life? When we met as 18 year-olds on our first day of college, we certainly never would have guessed we’d have seven pregnancies over the course of eight years. And that only two of them would end happily.

The first pregnancy resulted in a very early loss and its effect was far-reaching. Never again would we be able to see two lines on a test and assume that we would walk away with a living baby in nine months.  Pregnancy would never be a blissful, carefree time of nothing but joy and excitement. But at least the loss was very early. We would be able to quickly pass that milestone with future pregnancies.

But the losses keep happening later and later.  The second one was at 7 weeks. The third not detected until the 8 week appointment that I had somehow patiently waited for. That loss stole another piece of my sanity.  Now I couldn’t assume that no bleeding equaled a healthy baby. That was the first missed miscarriage. My body took five weeks to finally realize the baby was not living and begin to miscarry.   

Loss four was a whole new kind of terrible.  I found out I was unexpectedly expecting.  I thought that was great. I didn’t have to stress about trying to get pregnant. Or about making the decision to risk another loss. The decision was made for us. Certainly this pregnancy was meant to be.  Or not.  Just a week (or was it less) after seeing the positive test, I started spotting.  HCG levels were not increasing as desired and it was assumed I was having another miscarriage.  But it was far worse than that!  Our family left on a long-planned vacation in Florida while I was just about six weeks pregnant. I was pretty much expecting to miscarry on this trip but also a tiny bit hopeful that all would turn out. After just a few days away, though, I was in terrible pain.  The first hospital ran tests and performed an ultrasound.  The HCG was still climbing, although slowly. And they coudn’t find the baby in my uterus, or anywhere for that matter. They sent me away and told me to schedule a follow-up appointment with the on-call doctor for two days later. Well, by the time of that appointment, I was awaiting surgery in a second hospital. They had confirmed my worst fear: I had an ectopic pregnancy and by this time my tube had ruptured.  I had my right tube removed at a hospital while on vacation.

So that left me with a whole new set of worries.  Now, I would have to wonder if I would GET pregnant with just one tube.  And if I did get pregnant, I would have to worry WHERE the baby implanted.  And if the baby implanted in the right spot, I would have to worry about whether I would STAY pregnant.

With Olivia, I once again had thoughts of “this is meant to be.” We had easily conceived her.  An early ultrasound showed she was in the right place, and we had made it past the first trimester.  Then the shit hit the fan--again.  This time was far worse emotionally than ever before. This wasn’t just a baby we were losing, she was our daughter.  Now, I’m left with a feeling that I will never feel “safe” at any point during a future pregnancy.  I feel like we’ve been robbed of almost all hope.

Why do these losses keep happening? Why do they happen later and later? Why has my body stopped recognizing the loss right away? Why us???? Why are we the couple who loses our babies far more than we don’t?

Different

October 24, 2014

The loss of Olivia is just different from the other losses. For one, we knew about her for more than twice as long. We knew she was a girl. Our daughters knew about Olivia and were anticipating her arrival with us.  My body had already grown to accommodate her.

It was different also because she is the only baby we lost after seeing a heartbeat.  And we saw or heard it four times from seven to 12 weeks. She’s the only baby we lost after we were “in the clear” of the second trimester.  

But what really makes this different is we knew her as our daughter.  And the girls knew her as their sister.  We had chosen her name. We had talked about her. We had looked ahead and imagined our life with her.  Of course we’d imagined our life with each of our other losses but this time our imaginations had more detail, more reality to pull from.

And perhaps the most bittersweet: we had more time to fall in love with her.

Should

October 23, 2014

There are so many should have beens:  

-I should have been 19 weeks pregnant today.

-October should have been a great month of reassurance. I looked forward to this month because I should have had three appointments to show me you were alive and well. Instead, the first one shot that all to hell.

-I should have had the Big Ultrasound last week.  

-I should be almost half way done with your pregnancy.

-I should have an ever growing belly instead of an empty one.

-I should feel you kicking me.

-I should be uncomfortable: heartburn, hot, ever-expanding belly.

-I should be wearing maternity clothes.

-I should be buying more cute things for you to wear.

-Ella should be still hugging my belly and dreaming about the day she can see and hold you.

-We should be planning your nursery.

           -We should be happy and excited.

Light and Dark

October 20, 2014

Light

On the way

Excited and nervous

Strong baby

Opportunity

Complete our family

Happiness

Strength

Safe and Sound

Heartbeat pumping away!

Right where you needed to be

Grow!

Relief

Tears of joy

FROYO YOLO

Our family’s little secret

How much you were wanted

Feeling good

Delight

Happy

Upcoming arrival

A healthy baby girl

Over the moon

A baby sister

Flutters and nudges

A wonderful feeling

An exciting time for our family!

Optimism

Our strong girl

Nothing to worry about

Your staying power

Confidence

Olivia Claire

The symbol of a violet

Close to my heart

Carrying you

Your birthday, October 5th

Hello

Sweet baby

Our baby, beautiful and precious

Held your hand and foot on our fingertips

So tiny and so perfect

Our third baby girl

Forever our daughter

Carry you in our hearts

Dark

Suffer

Loss

Afraid

Hearts not complete

Heartache

Risk

Heart-wrenching silence

Long and uncomfortable

No heartbeat

Crashing

Steal memories

Short time together

Devastating

Disbelief, Anger

Deep, Intense

Incredible sorrow

Your birthday, October 5th

Goodbye

We cried and we cried

Grieving

Hardest day of our lives

Fragile little body

Lost opportunity to raise you

Empty

Sadder than we’ve ever been

Taken a lifetime too soon

WHY!?

Miss you

Long for you

Our third baby girl

Time is slipping

Days continue without me

Will I ever be the same without you?

A bad dream

A wave of despair

Stumbled out crying

A broken mommy

Miserable

Miss you

Tears, frustration, agony

Worry

Gone

No answers

Please forgive me

Meeting Olivia

October 20, 2014

When Olivia was placed in our arms the night she was born, we knew we had only a tiny bit of time to create a lifetime of memories.  We knew that we would hold her and study her and take pictures of her. We knew we would touch her and love her.  

There were a few things we did not know that we would do until she was in our arms and we were actually experiencing it.  We decided to sing Olivia a lullaby:

Lullaby and Goodnight

There are angels [around] you  

They all love you like I do

And they’ll always be with you.

Lullaby and goodnight

There are angels [around]

Lullaby and goodnight

They will always love you.

When Troy realized he would never get to walk Olivia down the aisle or dance with her at her wedding, he danced with her right there in the hospital room.  I was overcome with an intense compulsion to read my baby a book, so I read her the only board book that they could find.  It was appropriately titled Sleep Baby Safe and Snug.  

There were a few things I found myself regretting in the days after.  I hadn’t noticed her ears. How could I miss her ears?!  It was with this first regret that I found the strength to look at the pictures we’d taken of Olivia.  The pictures, as it turned out, did not fulfill my need but I was glad that I had taken the opportunity to look at them.

Olivia’s body was very fragile by the time she was born and we held her.  Because of this, she was presented to us in a bunting instead of a dress and she was placed on a nest of blankets. With this nest supporting her, she seemed a lot larger than she really was.  We were able to cradle her in our arms like she was a fully grown baby and that was a wonderful feeling. But what I didn’t do was lift her off this bundle of blankets so that I could feel just her weight.  Just her form. Just her.  I have ordered a heart in Olivia’s weight from a wonderful organization called A Heart to Hold and I look forward to the day her pillow arrives. Then I will be able to experience Olivia’s weight in my arms.

The main regret I felt was that we didn’t kiss her.  Somehow in our carefully spent time together this had not crossed our minds.  Ever since that regret entered my mind, I have silently visualized kissing her each night before I go to sleep.  I close my eyes, bring up an image of my precious sleeping baby, and draw her to my lips. I kiss her forehead in my mind since I will never again have the chance to kiss her in the flesh.  This ritual brings me peace and then I can fall asleep.